


The Annual Purge

by DuschaPendragon



Series: The Thirteen Tales [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), The Purge: Anarchy (2014)
Genre: All crime is legal, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Crossover, Human Hunting, Human treated as an animal, M/M, Thramsay - Freeform, Torture, flaying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-11 23:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2087010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuschaPendragon/pseuds/DuschaPendragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the night of the annual Purge in the city of Westeros. For twelve hours, all crime including murder is legal. All emergency services such as the City Watch, the Kings Guard and the Night's Watch will be suspended. There is going to be a war out there and the Bolton family is the best there is. Tonight, the Bolton's rule the streets, and no one is as excited about a night of crime as Ramsay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Commencement

**Author's Note:**

> So I can't wait to go and see the film! I saw the trailer and literally the first thing I thought of was "Ramsay would have one hell of a good time on the night of the Purge"...so, here is how I think his night would go.

 

Ramsay didn’t don a mask. He never did. Those in the city of Westeros knew who he was, and that his family were the ones to watch out for on the night of the annual purge. Friend or foe, the Bolton’s took no prisoners. On the night of the purge, the Bolton’s blades were sharpened and ready for anyone.   
Fastening his belt around his waist and picking up the weapons that lay on the bed, Ramsay paused to listen to the voices downstairs. “Please father, I don’t want to participate tonight. Killing people to prove ourselves? That’s not right!” His half-brother begged.  
“Have you turned craven Domeric? You know what happens to cravens on the night of the purge, don’t you?” Roose Bolton’s voice was so soft that Ramsay had to stop all movement just to hear him. Domeric gave no answer. “Gear up.” He heard his father command. Ramsay had done that already, but he gave one final check, just in case. Crossbow?...Check. Flaying knife?...Ramsay grinned as he felt the sharpness of the blade beneath his finger tip. Check. Gun?...Check. Dagger?...Check. Axe?...Check. And his bitches were awaiting him outside. He could hear them barking. He didn’t wear a bullet proof jacket. He wouldn’t be needing one.   
Confident that he was ready, he made his way downstairs into the kitchen. His father was sitting at the table sharpening his own flaying knife and watching the news at the same time. _“Traffic is building rapidly down town as citizens rush to get home before commencement. If you are not purging we advise you to get off of the streets as quickly as possible. It will soon be a war out there.”_ The news reporter said. And how right he would be. Ramsay checked the clock. Half an hour until commencement. With that in mind, Ramsay walked over towards the drinks cabinet, not saying a word to his father. Roose did not look up at his son. Keeping one eye on his father at all times, Ramsay reached for a shot glass and grabbed the good quality whisky. “Did I say you could help yourself to my drink bastard?” Roose purred dangerously.  
“For courage father.” Ramsay’s jest fell flat.  
“You know my rule. No drinking on purge night. Alcohol dulls the senses.” Roose reminded him. Ramsay recalled the last reminder being a lot more painful. “If I’m not a Bolton father, then what does it matter?” Ramsay asked bitterly, slumping down in a chair.  
“It doesn’t matter to me, but it matters to the family. You have the blood of the Bolton’s in you whether I like it or not. We have always been the most feared family and the Purge is our chance to reinforce that. The Starks have their honour, the Lannisters their wealth, the Baratheons their brute strength and the Tyrells have their ridiculous chain of successful supermarkets. We have sharp blades. Tonight, we use them.” Roose continued sharpening the articulately curved blade. “You should go.” Said Roose in that chilling voice.  
“It’s too early.” Ramsay pointed out. Roose said nothing, but fixed him with his cold, ghost grey eyes. Ramsay stood immediately and went to leave. “Oh and Ramsay?” Roose did not need to raise his voice to stop his bastard in his tracks. Ramsay turned and met his father’s icy gaze with his own. “12 hours. That is all we have. Do not waste time playing games.” Ramsay’s look darkened at the words and his father almost smiled.

His bitches bayed loudly, but Ramsay made no effort to quiet them. They would, of course, if he asked it of them. Nothing is as loyal and so willing to obey as a dog. Ramsay regularly found himself wishing they would speak. Dogs would not boast or make cruel remarks. Dogs would not care if he was a bastard. They would speak only to please him.  
There weren’t many people out on the streets now. Those that were hurrying home to cower in their houses ran and hid when they saw him coming. Ramsay relished that. Those that didn’t attempt to hide from him did, once he pretended to ready his crossbow. He walked confidently down the empty streets, spotting those that were readying themselves for the night ahead. A group of three men crossed the road in front of him to join a larger gathering of men. A number of them sat on motorbikes. All of them were dressed in a similar way; clothes the same shade of crimson and their faces were covered by masks shaped into the head of a lion and painted gold. Lannister men. Several weren’t yet wearing their masks and they leered at him as he walked by. “Need your bitches to guard you do you boy?” One of them called,  
“No. I need them to dispose of the bodies.” Ramsay growled in reply. The men roared with laughter. He forced himself to keep walking until he reached a dark alleyway. A dark and deserted alleyway. Ramsay glanced at the group of men to check if any of them were looking. They weren’t. Smiling to himself, Ramsay called his bitches to him and entered the darkness. And waited.

_“This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge. At the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal. All emergency services will be suspended. Your government thanks you for your participation.”_

Ramsay’s eyes snapped open as the siren rung out across the city of Westeros. “3…2…1…” Right on his cue, the motorbikes were kicked into life. Ramsay could hear the men shouting and laughing to one another. He stood up and moved towards the mouth of the alleyway. His girls swarmed around him. The motorbikes roared ever closer. “Rip them to shreds girls.” He ordered. The dogs leapt forward on his command, eager for the taste of blood. They barked and howled as they crossed paths with the Lannister men. The smell of blood and burning rubber filled the air as the motorbikes screeched to a halt. Ramsay stepped out into the road and smiled. Pools of blood seeped across the tarmac. His girls feasted on the flesh of the men, the dead and the dying. He paused for a moment to watch Red Jeyne tear out the throat of one man, his screams turning into gurgles once the blood began to pour from the gash in his neck. Another man who was yet untouched by the hounds, struggled out from beneath his wrecked motorcycle and began to run. Ramsay raised his crossbow and struck the coward full square in the back. The man’s final grunt echoed along the empty road. At the end of the street, a house roared up in a sudden burst of flame. A woman dressed all in red watched from below and listened to the screams of the people that were roasting within. Laughing at the sweet sound, Ramsay turned away from the burning house and started walking, loading another arrow onto his crossbow to continue with his night’s work.


	2. Old Victims and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay continues his purging and bumps into an old acquaintance before rescuing a completely clueless kraken.

How he wished he had the time to flay them all. Sometimes, Ramsay would take a strip of skin, just to leave his mark and keep as a…reminder. Five more people he had brought down after the attack on the Lannister men. One Karstark, one girl he had been to school with who, despite his father’s warning, he did take the time to terrorise. Yes, Tansy had run very well, but eventually she had become so crazed that she had become lost, ending up at a dead end. He had also found three ironmen raiding a computer store. They had put up a good fight, for a time. He smiled at the three heads that were now skewered on posts outside the shop. He had been tempted to write some sort of message on the pavement in their blood, but there wasn’t time for so much fun and games. Reluctantly, Ramsay called his hounds back to him. As Ramsay neared the end of the street, he heard voices down an alley to his left, along with a girl’s whimpers and screams. He stopped, ordered his dogs to settle, and listened. “Dog, I command you to beat the ginger bitch bloody! Whatever I ask you’ll do without a second thought. We are purging, or have you forgotten that?” A boys’ voice screeched.  
“Fuck the Purge, and fuck you boy.” A gruff voice replied. Ramsay pressed his back against the wall as he heard the heavy footsteps getting nearer. The man passed him without noticing Ramsay who skulked in the shadows. He was a tall man, towering over Ramsay’s head by a good few feet. He was built like a brick shit house too. How fun it would be to kill a man so much bigger than himself. However, just as he began to ready one of his arrows, a voice cried out behind him. “No, please no!” The girl screamed. Ramsay’s head snapped round to look into the dark alleyway. A boy with thick blonde hair had a girl up against a wall. He punched her sharply in the stomach and then proceeded to claw at her trousers. “You’ll let me do whatever I want to you Sansa. And you’ll love every moment, won’t you?” The boy growled loud enough for Ramsay to hear. He knew that voice, and he fucking hated it. “Well well, what do we have hear? Did your mummy finally let you join in with the big boys?” Ramsay taunted, making his way towards him.   
“Fuck off Ramsay, I’m busy.”  
“Now now Joffrey, your mother wouldn’t like you using that word.” He smiled as Joffrey glared at him.  
“At least my mother isn’t a waste-of-space whore like yours. Run along with your bitches and leave me with mine, bastard.” Joffrey snapped in reply. Ramsay had hated the boy ever since they met, and Joffrey wasn’t too fond of him either, not since Ramsay had beaten him in a fight and planted Joffrey in hospital.  
Ramsay had been walking his dogs when the mummy’s boy had made the mistake of shouted something about him being a bastard, how his father had only taken him in because he had no other choice. He had pushed all of the right buttons, or the wrong ones in Joffrey’s case. Ramsay had immediately turned on his heal to face the little fucker. “What was that you said?” He’d asked. Joffrey had glanced back at his friends and smugly repeated what he’d said, word for word. He did not expect his smug smile to have been knocked off his face quite so quickly. Ramsay’s punch had forced him to the ground and Ramsay had leapt on top of him, not even giving the boy the chance to spit out the loose teeth. “Say that again?” Ramsay had ordered. Joffrey did, crying and whimpering as Ramsay’s strong hands had tightened around his throat. When Joffrey’s mates had finally pulled Ramsay off of him, his dogs leapt in for the kill. Without Ramsay needing to breathe a command, several leapt onto Joffrey, biting and tearing as the boy wailed beneath them. The rest of the dogs attacked the men that were holding Ramsay back.  
By the time an ambulance had arrived, accompanied by the police, Ramsay had gone. Joffrey’s mother had been outraged of course, as had Roose. Ramsay had paid for that one when Roose got home from dealing with it all. He had been forced to wield the blade that killed his loyal bitches himself.  
The two boys had hated each other ever since and Ramsay had longed for the day that Joffrey was allowed out on the night of the Purge. It was almost funny how his first time would be his last.  
Because Joffrey was so distracted by the rapidly approaching Ramsay, the girl he had pinned to the wall made her escape. Ramsay let her go. It was highly unlikely the ginger Stark girl would make it home alive anyway. “Now look what you’ve made me do!” Joffrey stamped one of his feet childishly.  
“Should’ve killed her quicker then, instead of waiting for your dog to do it.” Ramsay recalled the man that had passed him a few moments ago. It must’ve been Sandor Clegane. Both Clegane brothers worked for the Casterly bank as security guards, no doubt Joffrey’s mother had sent the Hound with her son to protect him. That had worked out well. “You can’t insult me!” The boy cried.  
“Oh but I can, it’s the night of the Purge! I’ve been longing for the day your mother would let you out of her cunt long enough for you to join the men. Now…” Ramsay raised his crossbow. “Are you going to start running? Or am I going to have to get my dogs to help me?” Ramsay smiled his shark-like smile and Joffrey began to run.

The young boys’ screams set Ramsay’s blood pumping as they winded through the city streets. People saw them, no doubt, but no one made any attempt to help Joffrey, despite how the boy begged for it. He did beg so nicely, but that still did not inspire Ramsay to give him a quick death. Ramsay would send a few of his hounds forward if Joffrey began to slow down. They would snap at his heals relentlessly until Ramsay called them back.

Eventually, Joffrey could run no longer. He had put up a good chase, Ramsay would give him that. “Please, let me go!” He gasped, his face looked a sickening shade of purple in the dim moonlight. The dogs swarmed around him as he collapsed onto the tarmac, exhausted. “Down girls, to me.” Ramsay called. They returned to him immediately. “Alright,” Ramsay began, stroking Red Jeyne’s head fondly. “I’ll let you go.” Ramsay said. Joffrey could barely believe his luck. He got up and began to walk away, smiling with relief. He cried out suddenly as he felt something sharp pierce his kidney. “What the? You said you’d let me go!” Joffrey wailed, clutching at the arrow that had hit him as Ramsay moved in to make the kill.   
“Yes, but you forgot one thing Joffrey…” Ramsay unsheathed his flaying knife. “You forgot that I’m a liar!” The screams and the whimpers were entertaining at first, but then they became irritating. In the end, Ramsay tore out Joffrey’s tongue. The boy pleaded with his eyes, but Ramsay took no notice and continued to peel the skin from his face.  
One thing was for certain, Joffrey would never smile his smug smile again.

Ramsay wiped the blood from his flaying knife onto his jeans and walked away from Joffrey, who continued to writhe in pain on the ground, clawing at his bleeding face, well, what remained of his face. He didn’t let his dogs finish the boy off. Ramsay’s work was done. The boy would either bleed to death from his wounds or someone else would finish him off. Ramsay absent-mindedly patted the bag which contained Joffrey’s flesh. They were just little souvenirs. Perhaps he would send it to Joffrey’s mother, that would serve the bitch right. It had been her wish that his dogs, the ones which had attacked her son, be put to death. Ramsay smiled at the thought of the woman’s face when her son’s skin slid out from the delivery box. _“Forget about it Ramsay. There is work to be done.”_ His father’s voice rang through his head and Ramsay’s smile fell away. Moments later, Ramsay heard a shriek and then several footsteps. Running. Ramsay picked up the pace. Turning right down an alleyway, then left, then right again; his hunter’s hearing kicking in. It was a man shrieking and men shouting and running behind him. He rounded a corner and saw them. They were running away from him. A group of four men were chasing a lone man, and gaining on him fast. In moments, they were on him, knocking him to the ground. “Do you know what we do with runaway’s on Purge night, do you?” One of them said as they kicked and punched him until he was lying on his front. “Take off his pants.” The same man who had spoken before seemed to be the one giving the orders. The man on the floor began to thrash and wail. Ramsay smiled at the sound and began to ready his crossbow. “I’m gonna fuck you into the dirt.” The man said, unzipping his flies as the three other men held their prey down. Ramsay released the arrow. For a moment he wondered if it had missed. That thought was banished however as the man turned to face the direction the arrow had come from. The darkness hid Ramsay from view. A second arrow flew out from nowhere and struck the man in the gut. Another one of the men noticed that he had fallen to his knees and stood up, only to come crashing back down as an arrow pierced his shoulder. One by one, the other men span around to spot the source of the arrows. It wasn’t long before they were all lying sprawled on the ground, either dead already or still dying. Deciding it was finally safe for him to appear, Ramsay told his girls to stay where they were and walked forward, his strides casual and relaxed. The man who had been attacked struggled onto his back to face his saviour, pulling up his jeans in the process. Only the man who had appeared to be the leader of the gang knelt between them now. “You little bastard.” He spat. Ramsay hid his anger, too preoccupied by the fun that was to come. Without a word, Ramsay fired the arrow through the man’s head, killing him instantly. It was too quick a death for Ramsay’s liking, but he would make up for that. He looked down at the man he had…saved. His face was so filled with gratitude, his sea blue eyes giving silent thanks. It reminded Ramsay of one of his dogs when he rewarded them. He knew the boy, not well, but he knew him. Theon Greyjoy. Known for shagging more than his fair share of women, and failing at pretty much everything else in life. By the look on his face, he did not recognise Ramsay. “Come,” Ramsay reached out a hand to help him get up. “You’re a long way from home. And we have a long night ahead of us.” Theon gripped his hand tightly. Yes. They were going to have a very long night indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enter Theon, as requested. I would have liked to torture Joffrey more but Ramsay only has twelve hours (sigh).


	3. Fun and Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon remains ignorant of who Ramsay is...until it's too late.

Ramsay led the way through the winding streets and dark alleyways, ducking behind bins or walls whenever they came across others. Theon followed close behind him. His dogs followed them quietly. “Don’t worry, they are with us to protect us.” Ramsay had said when Theon had eyed the dogs warily. Despite not knowing anything about Ramsay, he seemed willing enough to follow him. He did not question where he was going. “Why are you helping me?” He asked. Ramsay took a moment to think of his answer. “Your sister sent me. She felt that, due to your recent problems, it wouldn’t be safe for you out here.” He lied.  
“And my father?” Theon asked. Ramsay scanned his brain for what he knew about the Greyjoy family. Oh…this was going to be fun. “He said nothing.” Ramsay replied.  
“Nothing? Not a word?” Theon questioned in desperation.  
“No…well…he told your sister not to bother helping you.” Ramsay didn’t need to see Theon’s reaction to relish the pain the boy felt.  
“And why didn’t you take his word over my sister’s?” Theon asked after a momentary pause.  
“I know it is not allowed, but I feel I must take it upon myself to protect what few people I can on this night. Your sister knew that and she came to me, asking me to see that you were unhurt. You might have done some bad things Theon, but everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?” Ramsay could only just contain his laughter.  
“Well, thanks.” Said Theon.  
“That’s alright. On the night of the Purge, I think people should look out for one another.” Ramsay still did not know how he was able to hide his laughter. To his surprise, he thought he heard Theon begin to cry behind him. “Theon?” Ramsay turned around to see Theon slumped on the ground with his head in his hands.   
“I shouldn’t have done it. Ned Stark was killed last year, beheaded by the Lannisters, so Robb swore that he would take vengeance. And I swore to take it with him. But my father, he got so angry! He told me that I had to prove myself a Greyjoy. So…so I…I burnt it down, I burnt everything down!” The man cried.  
“You burnt what down?” Ramsay asked, curious.  
“Winterfell. The home of the Starks. Though in some ways it was my home too. I burnt it down tonight, with the people still inside. I heard them screaming. Now everyone wants me dead.” Theon sobbed.  
“The younger Stark boys? Were they in the house?” Ramsay knew that this piece of information must in some way be valuable. Theon lifted his head, as though hopeful. “No…I…I saw them escape, out of the corner of my eye, while Dagmer was lighting a match. He said that no one would know, that they would assume the boys were still in the house so we burnt it down anyway. To make my father proud.” Theon let his head droop again. He looked so broken. So defeated. Ramsay had never recalled a time when he had felt this lucky. “Maybe it’s not too late?” He said, though he knew it was a lie.  
“It is.” Theon sniffed. “My real father lost his head in the purge last year. I made a choice. I chose wrong. And now I’ve burned everything down…” Theon sniffed again. He was so pathetic. It was brilliant. “Not everything. Come, your sister waits for you.” Ramsay helped Theon up before continuing to make his way through the empty streets.

Even when they reached the Dreadfort, Theon still did not seem to be able to identify Ramsay. Ramsay took him through the side passage, then he led him down a flight of stairs. Was he really not going to question where he being taken? When they reached the bottom, Ramsay stopped just before the doors that led into his…den. “Your sister is waiting within. We thought it would be safer to wait here until the night is over.” Ramsay lied. Theon just nodded in reply. Ramsay led the way into the room which was pitch black inside. He stepped to the side so that Theon walked past him. “Asha?” Theon called out into the darkness.  
“Shh.” Ramsay called after him, worrying that his father or his brother might still be in the house. When Ramsay felt that Theon had wondered deep enough into the room, he flicked the light switch. They flickered on overhead, flashing on and off repeatedly for a time so that Ramsay would only see Theon momentarily. It only added to making the moment more exciting. Theon looked around the room, throwing his head around, trying to get his bearings. Eventually the lights came on properly and he managed to get a decent look at the room, although there wasn’t much to look at. Theon’s gaze focused on the largest object in the dark dank room. A huge wooden cross, accessorized only by strips of leather used to band together the hands and feet. Obviously, Asha wasn’t there. “What are you doing? Where am I?” Theon cried. He span around to face Ramsay, only catching a glimpse of Ramsay’s wicked smile before the lights were shut off again. Theon didn’t hear him approach. The blow to the back of his head came as a sickening surprise.

Eventually, Ramsay grew tired of waiting for Theon to wake up. He picked up the fog horn that sat on the small table beside his chair and pressed the button. The noise pierced his ears, and Theon’s too as the man threw his head up, shaken from sleep. Ramsay had checked the house once he had tied Theon onto the cross; his dad and brother were nowhere to be seen. Good. Only Ramsay would get to hear Theon scream. “Sorry! Were you sleeping?” Ramsay taunted as Theon tried to adjust his position on the cross. The man spluttered and coughed, then began to smack his lips. “W…Wa…” Theon muttered.  
“Wa…Water! You want some water?” Ramsay picked up the glass of water he had on the table, having anticipated what Theon would want. Oh, how predictable he was! “I wish I had some for you!” Ramsay shrugged as he emptied the cup onto the floor. He smiled at Theon’s desperate face. Ramsay stood up abruptly, letting the glass fall from his grasp and smash on the floor. “Now let’s play a game. Which body part do you need the least?” Ramsay moved towards Theon, who had stripped down so all he was wearing were his jeans.  
“Please…” Theon began to protest.  
“Please…not a body part?” Ramsay guessed.  
“I’ll tell you everything…please…” Ramsay loved the way he begged.  
“But, you’ve already told me everything? Your Daddy was mean to you. The Starks didn’t appreciate you.” Ramsay’s voice was mocking and Theon dropped his head, defeated. “One good thing though! The Stark boys…they’re still alive. Now, how about a little finger? You don’t use that for much do you? No? Good! Let’s start with that.” Ramsay moved and began to start strapping the fingers back so that Theon couldn’t try and curl them into a fist and ruin the fun. He taunted him all the while of course. “You’ve been wondering why you’re here. Where you are. Who I am. Why I am doing this to you…so guess!” Ramsay relished the look of confusion on Theon’s face. “If you guess right, I’ll tell you. By the old gods and the new, I swear it. You win the game if you can figure out who I am and why I am torturing you and I win the game if you beg me to cut off your finger!” Ramsay spoke so quickly in his excitement that he wondered if Theon would even understand. Theon looked up, suddenly so filled with hope that it made Ramsay want to laugh. “If I win, you’ll let me go?” Theon asked. He was so foolish. “If you think this has a happy ending, you haven’t been paying attention.” The advice was just too sweet to deliver. Theon began to cry again. “Please…” He begged again. Ok, now it was just irritating. “You say please again…” Ramsay drew out his flaying knife and pointed it at Theon’s face “and you’ll wish you hadn’t.” Theon stared fearfully at the blade that seemed to grin so eagerly at him. “Well, you first! Where are we?” Ramsay asked, wanting to return to his game.  
“The North Side!” Theon cried. It was true, they were in the North part of the city. But to give him that answer would just be too easy. “Too vague.” Ramsay growled.  
“Deepwood Motte!” Theon guessed. Ramsay laughed a deep, throaty laugh. “Terrible guess!” He replied, piercing and cutting away at Theon’s skin to prepare to flay it. Flaying, the boy surely must see that as a clue? If he knew the answer, he didn’t say it. He just screamed. “Now, where?” Ramsay asked, still waving his flaying knife around.   
“Last Hearth?” Theon guessed again. Ramsay felt almost insulted. The Umbers were known for their strength, owning a small chain of local gyms. But they were also known for not being particularly bright, nor were they nice to look at. “Do I look like a fucking Umber to you?” Ramsay returned to Theon’s little finger and sliced a little further. Theon screamed, louder this time. “Karhold!” Theon cried. Ramsay had to admit that Theon losing was just too easy. Time for a different game. Ramsay removed the knife from Theon’s skin. “Karhold? How did you know that?” Ramsay asked. Theon looked up at him, relieved. “It was just a guess.” He replied.  
“Very good.” Said Ramsay. “And who am I?” He asked.  
“Torrhen Karstark!” Answered Theon  
“He’s dead. Strangled by the Kingslayer.” Ramsay spat. It was true, Ramsay had witnessed it earlier on that night. He had spotted Jaime Lannister, nicknamed Kingslayer because he had been the one to kill an old homeless madman one purge night, the homeless man had always called himself “The King of the City of Westeros”. Theon looked up at Ramsay with his sea blue eyes, Ramsay could see the new thought blossoming in them. “He was your brother. Your father was Rickard Karstark.” Theon said, Ramsay feigned looking upset. After all, his ‘brother’ had just died. He turned around to go and sit back down, as though he were defeated. “You swore to tell me…” Theon called out, only to be cut off by Ramsay.  
“You’re right!”  
“Rickard Karstark went with Robb to take revenge on the Lannister’s. I betrayed Robb. That’s why you’re torturing me.” The boy was so confident with his answer. It was hilarious to Ramsay, though he tried hard not to show it. “Yes. You win.” Ramsay lied. Theon lent back a little, relieved that his ordeal was…over. Ramsay played with his knife for a moment, prolonging the boy’s relief, it would just make the next moment all the sweeter. Ramsay stood up quickly, his knife glinting in the limited lighting of the den. “Of course, you forgot to ask one question…you forgot to ask if I’m a liar!” Before allowing Theon to understand, he slid the knife beneath the broken skin of the pinkie finger again, slicing away at the flesh and smiled as Theon began to cry out again. “I am afraid I am.” Ramsay tugged at the strip of flesh. “Everything I’ve told you, is a lie. This isn’t happening to you for a reason, well one reason…” Ramsay suddenly tore at the flesh with an unexpected ferocity. “I enjoy it!” He laughed. Theon writhed in agony, causing the cross to rattle as he tried to break free. “Please! Cut it off! Cut it off!” Theon begged. The screams gave Ramsay a thousand more pleasures than tearing off Joffrey’s face had. Theon begged so beautifully. Ramsay let go of the piece of skin. “I win!” He declared. Then he went back to the hand and began to dig at the skin of another finger. Over the sound of Theon’s screams, Ramsay heard his mobile begin to ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the majority of it is just that scene from season three, I was kind of stuck for ideas. The next few chapters will be a lot more original.


	4. Good Bitch, Bad Theon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay receives an order from his father. One good thing though, Theon gets to go with him!

Ramsay looked longingly at the freshly wounded finger. The blood ran in a red ribbon down the hand. He wanted to draw more of it, but his phone continued to ring out. Eventually, Ramsay stepped away, but kept the knife where it was; pierced through a layer of Theon’s skin. He snatched up the phone. “What?” He hissed angrily.  
“Is that any way to speak to your father Ramsay?” Roose Bolton’s voice was soft, amused.  
“I was in the middle of something.” Ramsay admitted.  
“No games I hope? You remember what I said, don’t you Ramsay?” His father’s voice was filled with danger, so cold that it made Ramsay shudder.  
“Yes father.” He replied. “You called?” He asked after a moments silence.  
“Yes, I wanted Domeric but I can’t reach him, so you’ll have to do,” Either Roose didn’t hear Ramsay’s growl or he ignored it. “I have a job for you. For once your…hobbies…will come in useful.” Roose said.  
“What kind of a job?” Ramsay asked, suspicious.  
“I’ve made some new friends. Come and meet us.” Roose ordered.  
“Where?”  
“Casterly Bank, and you may bring whoever you are killing with you so that you can continue later. I’ll even let you keep it as an amusement if you do your job well.” It was an unusual kindness from his father, but Ramsay didn’t notice that.  
“Casterly Bank did you say?” Ramsay asked.  
“Yes.” Roose replied flatly.  
 _Oh shit._ Thought Ramsay.

He tried to forget about who they were meeting. Instead, he began to get excited about taking Theon with him. He removed a dog collar from its peg on the wall. “Head up.” Ramsay ordered. Theon looked confused and exhausted. He looked up only to drop his head again a few seconds later. Ramsay grabbed his chin, his grip tightened as he grew impatient. “I said, head up!” He growled.  
“Please…” Theon muttered, his eyes begging whilst tears wetted his cheeks.  
“You are going to be a good boy aren’t you? You are going to let me put you collar on?” Ramsay asked, his voice light. Theon looked straight into his eyes, slightly dazed. “No.” He said defiantly. Ramsay’s knee came up hard and sharp. Theon screamed as Ramsay’s knee connected with his groin, so hard that he spit up blood. “You are going to let me put the collar on like a good little bitch, aren’t you?” Ramsay asked again.  
“Yes…please…I’ll let you put the collar on.” Theon spluttered. He gave in far too easily. “No, I want you to _beg_ me to put it on you. A good bitch like you does enjoy their walk.” Ramsay taunted. Theon said nothing. Ramsay reached up for the handle of the knife that was still implanted in Theon’s finger. Without hesitation, Ramsay pulled down on it so hard that the skin peeled away, from the tip of his fourth finger all the way to the heel of his hand. “PLEASE…” Theon wailed.  
“Please…what?” Ramsay smiled, seeing the answer written in those sea blue eyes.  
“Please…put my collar on. I want to go for a walk.” Theon said, defeated.  
“Now there’s a good little bitch.” Ramsay cooed, ruffling Theon’s hair. Ramsay then clipped on a lead to the collar and untied the leather straps that held Theon’s arms and hands in place. Theon let his hands sing down in relief before spotting the wicked smile on Ramsay’s face. Ramsay yanked down hard on the lead so that Theon fell on his face. His feet remained bound to the cross in an uncomfortable position, his ankles twisted and Theon could have sworn he actually heard the hamstring tear. “Please…untie them…please!” He begged, his lower legs felt as though they were on fire.  
“Did I hear the little bitch speak?” Ramsay asked, kneeling down beside Theon. “You don’t speak unless I ask a question. If you want to, you can whine if you’re hurting.” Ramsay grinned down at him.  
“I just want you to untie them…” Theon was cut off as he felt the sharp steel of Ramsay’s dagger slice open his back, only millimetres away from his spine.  
“I didn’t give my bitch permission to speak.” Ramsay said. Theon whined in reply. Ramsay pulled back Theon’s arms and bound them together with wire before cutting his feet free. “Up bitch.” Ramsay commanded, yanking roughly on the lead. Theon struggled up without the use of his hands. “Now normally, a good dog like you would walk on all fours, but your master is in a hurry, so I will allow you the luxury of walking on your feet. Am I not a kind Master?” Ramsay asked sweetly. Theon looked at him, not sure whether to speak or not. “Yes…you are very kind…Master…” Theon whimpered. Master. That made Ramsay’s smile stretch across his face as though he had a Chelsea grin. “Come bitch. Father is waiting for us.”

Ramsay forced Theon along the road. Theon wore nothing but his jeans and the collar. “Dogs don’t wear shoes. I have been kind enough to let you wear your trousers though! After all, most people have already seen what lies beneath them. All the girls talk about it!” Ramsay mocked. After half an hour of walking, Theon’s walk become more of a hobble. But Ramsay was relentless. Each time Theon grew too slow Ramsay would yank violently on the lead. Theon had not noticed them before, but on the inside of the collar, small (but sharp) metal teeth had been embedded into the stiff leather. As they continued to walk, and Ramsay’s tugs grew more and more frequent, the teeth became more and more noticeable. “Please! I can’t go on any further!” Theon wailed, crumbling onto his knees.  
“I don’t recall giving my bitch permission to speak.” Ramsay growled, his patience wearing thin. “Did you not remember the lesson I gave you.” He asked. Theon remembered what had happened the last time he had defied his captor so he whined in protest instead of speaking. “Alright, as you do whine so beautifully. Would you like a ride in a car to get us there? Would that be easier for you?” Ramsay asked, in a voice that promised cruelty. Not that Theon recognised it. He was yet to learn. “Yes…yes please Master.” He said, leaning down low as though he were bowing to Ramsay in his gratitude. But Ramsay glimpsed a smile on his face. The flash of white crooked teeth irritated him. He would have to see to that later. “Ok, I’ll make a call.” Ramsay said, pulling out his mobile. Theon remained on his knees, his forehead pressed against the tarmac in gratitude and sobs of relief sent his whole body shaking. “Skinner? It’s Ramsay. How’s your night going? Good…nice! Yeah, I’ve killed a few, less than last year, but I’ve caught one that might prove…useful, if not entertaining. Listen mate, I know you’re busy, but I was wondering if you could do me a favour?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I tried to be a bit more original this time. I hope it's OK! Sorry it's a bit short. I wrote half of it last night, then half of it at 6am on a coach. I wrote four more chapters as well so will be typing some of them up tomorrow :)


	5. Never Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay, with the help of Skinner, gives Theon a valuable lesson and Ramsay meets another resident in the city of Westeros.

The minutes seemed to drag by and Ramsay began to worry that he would be too late and that his father would be angry, or worse, Domeric would answer his phone and be the one to run to his father. Just when he was about to drag Theon up to resume walking he heard the screeching of tyres. Ramsay spun around to see a yellow car with navy racing stripes speeding towards them. A large prancing stag was emblazoned on the front. Shit. A Baratheon. Ramsay readied his crossbow, but as the car drew nearer, he recognised a friendly face inside. Skinner skidded the car into a dramatic halt. “Hey Skinner!” Ramsay called as Skinner climbed out of the car.  
“What you got then Ramsay?” Skinner asked, grinning greedily.  
“Not what, but whom.” Theon grunted then whined as Ramsay kicked him sharply in the ribs to roll him over onto his back. “Theon Greyjoy.” Ramsay declared. “Though he’s not much of a Greyjoy now. He’s my little bitch. Aren’t you?” Ramsay nudged Theon with the toe of his boot.  
“Ramsay? He called you Ramsay?” Theon asked, squinting up at the two men.  
“I don’t believe that was the answer to my question.” Ramsay growled.  
“Ramsay Snow?” Of all the mistakes that Theon had made that night, this was no doubt one of the worst, for him anyway.  
“Did you want to carry on that little game that we played earlier? I was trying to guess which body part that you needed the least, wasn’t I? I have one now! And I don’t need that cross, Skinner will hold you down.” Skinner took Ramsay’s hint and went and sat on Theon to pin him down. He sat down so hard on Theon’s groin that he yelped out in pain. “I call you a bitch but we all know you aren’t. You are quite the man whore, aren’t you Theon Greyjoy? Well, as you know, men have no use for nipples!” Both Ramsay and Skinner laughed as Theon struggled under the weight of Skinner, then screamed as Ramsay pinched and twisted Theon’s nipple, before using his knife to slice it off completely. Theon thrashed so hard that he left blood smeared across the pavement from where his head had hit the concrete. “Mercy! Please, I beg you for mercy!” Theon screeched.  
“He begs very sweetly Ramsay.” Said Skinner who, to Theon’s horror, began to roughly move his hips back and forth.  
“Calm yourself Skinner, this bitch is mine until I decide to share him.” Ramsay warned. The tone of his voice was enough to stop Skinner’s hips moving. “Please…mercy…” Theon whined again.  
“Alright little bitch. I’ll be merciful. You can keep your other nipple. But if you ever refer to your master as Snow again you will lose the body part that a man most definitely has a use for.” Ramsay warned. Theon whined but he nodded to show that he understood. “Good boy, now, let’s get you in the car.” Said Ramsay. Skinner grinned as Theon stood up on shaky legs and waddled over to the car. “What are you doing bitch? Dogs don’t sit on the back seat in cars as nice as these. If you’d have behaved yourself, and not asked questions, then perhaps I would have let you sit on my lap. Unfortunately…” Ramsay opened the door to the small boot of the car “You’ve been a very bad dog.” He said, grinning wickedly. Theon began to back away, whining, only to back into Skinner. Ramsay nodded, indicating for Skinner to pick Theon up. “Normally, a dog would leap into the boot by itself. But you are tired, so Skinner will help you.” Ramsay grinned, watching as Theon was stuffed into the back of the car. “See you when we get there bitch.” Ramsay snarled.

Ramsay saved his questions about the car for later. They could wait. Already he was running late, and that would not make his father and his new friends happy. Fortunately, due to there being no laws on speeding, they made good time. Skinner never took his foot off of the accelerator, not even when they came across people, if anything, he stepped on it harder. Soon enough, the tall skyscraper loomed up beside them, skewering the sky like a spear. The words ‘Casterly Bank’ were emblazoned in Lannister crimson down the side of the building and two huge stone lions guarded the entrance. “I’ll stick in the area, go and kill a few southerners. Let me know if you need any…help.” Skinner grinned eagerly.  
“Sure thing. Cheers for the lift. My dog and I really appreciate it.” Ramsay laughed. He jumped out of the car and went round to the boot to let Theon out. When he opened up the lid he laughed. The boy had pissed himself, the scent of it filled the boot. “Now bitch, this is a posh place. They might not let dirty dogs like you in.” Theon looked up at him, whining and pleading with his eyes. Ramsay grabbed the end of the lead and tugged it roughly, just to hear Theon yelp. “Out bitch.” Ramsay ordered. Theon struggled to swing his legs around. When he jumped out he almost fell again; the ride in the boot of the car had left him shaken and unbalanced. Ramsay said nothing. His mind was now focused on what lay ahead of him. Why was his father at Casterly Bank? They were from the North Side, and Roose had sworn to help Robb Stark take revenge on the Lannisters. Ramsay made his way up the marble steps with his bitch in tow. He kicked open the glass doors and made his way through, only to be knocked to the floor the moment he and Theon were inside. Ramsay flew backwards into his pet and the two crashed into the glass doors. “Think you can come stealing in here do you?” A thick voice grumbled. Ramsay looked up at his attacker, squinting as his eyes came in and out of focus. The man was huge, towering over him like a mountain. Ramsay had only moments to figure out who he was before Gregor threw himself on top of him. He heard Theon howl behind him as his legs were crushed beneath the weight of both Ramsay and the Mountain, but Ramsay barely had time to notice his pet. Gregor placed his large hands on either side of Ramsay’s head, with his thumbs over his eyes, and began to squeeze as though Ramsay’s head was nothing but a watermelon. Ramsay screamed and thrashed as he felt his head being crushed in the man’s grasp. “It’s alright, Mr Clegane.” Came a soft voice. “He’s with me.” Roose Bolton said as he strolled casually towards them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit short. Hopefully the next few chapters will be a bit longer. Please do comment with your thoughts on the story so far :)


	6. Into The Lion's Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay and Theon are seperated in order for Ramsay and Roose to receive their orders.

For the first time in his entire life, Ramsay was actually relieved to see his father. The Mountain eventually clambered off of him. Ramsay gave no thanks but he did give a slight nod. “And what is that you have with you?” Roose Bolton asked, his voice barely higher than a whisper. Ramsay stood up and tugged on the lead. Theon yelped and leapt up, stumbling a little due to the force with which he had hit the glass doors. Roose took a long hard look at Theon. His eye was a little swollen, his lip had been split, the teeth from the collar had bitten so deep that blood was now streaming down his neck and chest. Theon’s bruises from where Ramsay had kicked him in the ribs were partially covered up by the blood that continued to spurt spasmodically from the hole where his nipple had once been. He stank of piss too. Yet despite all of this, Roose Bolton still managed to recognise the boy who had dared to mock and heckle him when he had visited his school and given them a talk about career’s in law. “Theon Greyjoy.” Roose declared. “He will be valuable indeed.” Roose said, though it was said so quietly that Ramsay wondered if he had been saying it to himself. Either way, Ramsay smirked proudly, clearly it was something Roose could not stand. “I am afraid your dog won’t be able to come with us. You must leave him…”  
“No!” Ramsay cried out, so suddenly that even Roose was shocked, though he did well not to show it. Instead, he raised an eyebrow and said “You should not be here either Ramsay. If you don’t recall, it was Domeric I called first, but he was unavailable. You were my only option.” His tone was matter of fact, which only served to anger Ramsay further. At last, Roose grew tired of infuriating his son. “Go and tie your bitch around that column over there. Gregor, if my son’s pet should try to escape, see to it that he’ll never run again. But keep him alive.” Roose ordered.  
“No, he is my pet. I am the only one who gets to harm him.” Ramsay growled.  
“Gregor does not take orders from the likes of you, bastard.” Roose hissed, his patience wearing dangerously thin. Ramsay heard the warning. He hurried over to the large column, tugging repeatedly at the lead and forcing Theon into a bumbling trot. Ramsay roughly threw Theon to the floor and looped the lead around the column, fastening it tightly so that Theon could not move further than two feet away from the column. “Listen here bitch, who is your master?” Ramsay asked angrily.  
“You are.” Theon replied without hesitation. Theon trembled so much at the voice that he looked as though he were about to piss himself again. “That’s right. But if you do try to escape, perhaps I will flay your fingers, or be kind enough to relieve you of a few of them. Toes too perhaps. You’ll most surely lose another useless nipple and if I’m feeling very upset about your escape, I’ll cut off your favourite body part, the one that you enjoy the most. And then I’ll make you eat it. Dog’s like pork sausage don’t they? And if all of that doesn’t put on a good enough show, I’ll let Skinner have you for a while…well, after I’ve had my turn on you of course. Do you understand all of that bitch?” Ramsay growled, though just talking about causing Theon such pain put him in a better mood.  
“Yes Master…please…I’ll be good I swear.” Theon sobbed.  
“You’ll be a good bitch for your master, won’t you?” Ramsay asked.  
“Yes. I will be a good bitch.” Theon repeated the words, knowing that they were what Ramsay wanted to hear.  
“Then I will reward you later.” Ramsay promised, already thinking of what treats he could give his pet.   
“Ramsay!” Roose barked, an action that rarely occurred. Ramsay gave Theon a quick pat on the head before hurrying over to his father. Roose led the way towards the elevator. Ramsay’s jaw dropped. The whole interior of the elevator was made of gold. He had never been in Casterly Bank. If a boy like him was seen in there, he would be kicked out, no matter what his business was. Ramsay looked around the small confines of the elevator. “It’s all painted, so don’t even think of trying to steal anything.” Roose warned, standing staring straight ahead with his hands clasped together. As though Ramsay wasn’t even there. “I thought tonight was our night to reinforce the fact that we are a house to be feared, not wondering around banks.” Ramsay said.  
“The task we are going to give you will show that we are to be feared more than ever. And we will gain far more than fear, if you do your job well.” Roose grimaced, still not looking at his son.   
“We?” Ramsay asked. Roose pretended not to hear him as the elevator drew to a stop on the fifteenth floor. Roose glided out of the doors the moment there was a gap wide enough for him. “Father are you not going to tell me what is going on? Why are we in the headquarters of the Lannisters?” Ramsay asked. What if they had somehow found out that it had been him that had killed Joffrey? Was his own father leading him to his death? Ramsay wouldn’t put it past him. Try as he might, Ramsay never seemed to be able to do the right thing in his father’s cold, ghost grey eyes. Not like his perfect, darling little half-brother Domeric. Roose led him down numerous corridors. Ramsay tried to get his bearings and pick up on things that separated one corridor from another, should he need to make a hasty escape. But after they’d made what seemed like a thousand turns to both the left and the right, Ramsay gave up. Each corridor looked identical to the next. He would just have to fight for his life if need be. He wondered how his father knew his way around the building so well. He had obviously been here numerous times before. Finally, Roose Bolton stopped in front of a large set of double wooden doors with lion head’s carved into them. Roose knocked twice sharply on the door then stood back and waited. There were no laws tonight, so why was his father bothering to be so courteous? “Enter!” Came a powerful voice from within. Roose opened the door, his courtesies obviously ran dry as he allowed the door to swing shut so that it almost hit Ramsay in the face. “Welcome back Mr Bolton.” The man said, though his voice held no warmth, let alone a welcome. “And this must be your son.” The man presumed.  
“This is my bastard, Ramsay Snow. The other was busy.” Ramsay glared at the back of Roose’s head.  
“Ramsay. I have heard much about you.” The man said, regarding Ramsay with a scrutinizing green-eyed gaze. Before Ramsay could speak, Roose cut in. “May we have your orders, Mr Lannister? There is only six hours left and I need to set my son to work.” Informed Roose, although his tone was respectful.  
“Of course. Your job is simple, Mr Bolton. The Starks. I want them dead. Every one.” Tywin Lannisters orders were abrupt and definite. “You know the whereabouts of the Young Wolf, I presume?” Tywin asked.  
“Indeed. Walder Frey is keeping him preoccupied. Robb Stark plans to attack in the final four hours. He was relying on buying both weapons and men from Mr Frey. Little does he know that Frey is already bought. The Young Wolf’s mother is with him, and his wife too. Do you wish them dead also?” His father asked, as though he were nothing more than a waiter taking orders at a restaurant.  
“Like I said, every one.” Tywin repeated.  
“Very well.” Roose answered casually.  
“As for your son…”  
“Bastard son.” Roose dared to cut in.  
“Yes, bastard son, he will seek out Ned Starks bastard, Jon Snow. He has joined the Night’s Watch but I will take no chances. He has Stark blood, it needs to be spilt. Can you handle that?” It took a moment for Ramsay to realise that he was being spoken to. “Hmph? Oh, yeah, certainly…sir.” Ramsay wasn’t used to speaking to men that held such power. To his annoyance, his father turned around and gave a little smirk, amused at how foolish his son had appeared. If Tywin Lannister noticed the exchange, he didn’t dwell on it. “Joffrey is out hunting for the Stark girls as we speak and, fortunately for us, Theon Greyjoy has disposed of the two Stark boys so…”  
“Actually sir, I have some information that might prove to be of value to you. I have captured Theon Greyjoy and he confessed that he let the Stark boys escape.” Ramsay informed proudly, ignoring his father’s gaze.  
“Confessed?” Tywin asked, cocking his head to the side slightly and fiddling with the arm of his chair.  
“All too easily. The boy’s a fool.” Ramsay continued, eager to keep the conversation off the subject of Joffrey.  
“I shall send my best hunter after them.” Roose promised.  
“Very well. Your son may go and begin his hunt. I have some matters of payment to settle with you before you begin your work Mr Bolton.” Tywin said. Ramsay took the hint that he was no longer wanted. “Tyrion!” Tywin called. A door at the back of the room opened. Ramsay expected to see another security guard like the Mountain appear to escort him out. To his surprise (and amusement) a dwarf waddled out instead. “You called, father?” The dwarf asked, irritation in his voice.  
“Yes. Escort the bastard of Bolton back downstairs.” Tywin ordered, without looking at his son. Tyrion looked over at Ramsay who smirked at him, obviously amused by his stature. _“Ramsay Snow. Ramsay Snow. Ramsay Snow.”_ Tyrion repeated in his head, his mismatched eyes studying the boy. “Come this way, Mr Snow.” The arrow hit Ramsay exactly where Tyrion had wanted it too. _“Mr Snow. Don’t like that anymore than I like being laughed at, do you bastard?”_ Tyrion thought, before leading the way out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was another chapter I wrote down yesterday...in the middle of a theme park. People walked past me with my little notebook and pen and probably thought I was a right weirdo! Then a girl walked past me wearing a t-shirt with the Stark sigil on it and I just sat there thinking "She has no idea what I have in store for them."  
> Anyway, I hope you like the chapter! Ramsay and Tyrion...how do you think that's going to work out...


	7. The Imp and The Bastard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion enjoys the chance to taunt Ramsay whilst he's untouchable. Ramsay takes his anger out on Theon.

Ramsay watched and tried to hold back his laughter as the half man waddled through the hallways. “I suppose this has been quite the fun night for you bastard. I’ve heard you enjoy giving the odd torture session. You were the Ramsay Snow that put my nephew and several of his delightful companions in hospital, were you not? My sister was quite upset about it, so I must thank you for that bastard.” Tyrion said, smiling as he felt the anger grow behind him.  
“I warn you Imp, call me bastard one more time and I’ll…”  
“I met another Snow once. Lovely fellow, a bit miserable, but pretty to look at…well…prettier than you. I shared a few wise words with him about being a bastard. I would love to share some of them but…” The dwarf stopped and turned, smiling an ugly smile at Ramsay “I fear they would be lost on you.” Tyrion turned away and continued walking before Ramsay could argue back. Ramsay was not used to being attacked with words. Had it been anyone else, he would have flayed them living. But this was Tyrion Lannister, son of the most powerful man in the city. To Ramsay, he was untouchable. “Don’t worry your cruel head. My father must find some redeeming, if not useful quality in you. You must feel honoured. I cannot think of a Snow that my father has spoken more than two words too.” Tyrion’s walk had an extra spring to it now. He was angering a boy more sadistic and brutal than his nephew. And this bastard could do fuck all about it. “Listen here dwarf. I am no Snow. I am a Bolton, and if you call me a bastard one more time I’ll cut you in half.” Ramsay threatened, towering over Tyrion.  
“Dwarf? You should’ve stopped at Imp. As for cutting me in half, my beloved nephew threatened to have his dog do exactly the same thing. I told him that that would make me the quarter man, and that just didn’t have the same ring to it as the half man did. As for you being a Bolton, I can see that you are. Your heart is as cold as those ridiculous eyes of yours, seriously, I thought mine were ugly. But you cannot change what you are. Don’t blame me for the fact that your last name is Snow, I am not the one that raped your mother. Now, may I introduce you to my good friend Bronn?” Ramsay had not realised that they had reached the elevator. A man with dark hair and dark eyes was waiting for them. He leaned casually against the wall, but the way he played with the dagger in his hands promised Ramsay that he was confident on how to use it. “Delighted to meet you.” Said Bronn. He pressed the down button and the elevator doors slid open. Ramsay looked angrily from Tyrion to Bronn before stomping into the elevator that shone like how Tywin Lannister’s shit supposedly did.

Ramsay shot out of the elevator the first moment that he could. “In a hurry to leave are we?” Bronn called after him. Ramsay ignored him, even seeing Theon still tied up was not enough to quench Ramsay’s anger. Theon whimpered as Ramsay stormed towards him. Obviously, Theon’s reward had been forgotten, at least for now. “Who in the Seven Hells is that?” Bronn asked. Clearly the Imp and his sidekick had not trusted Ramsay to make his own way out. Ramsay did not delight them with an answer. He hurriedly untied Theon and yanked on the rope to drag him to his feet. He needed to kill someone, and he needed to do it now. “Theon Greyjoy?” Tyrion whistled in disbelief. “I can’t imagine the women of Westeros would want to spend the night with you in this state.” Tyrion’s jest was said with a grimace.  
“Please!” Theon wailed at Tyrion. Had Ramsay been in a better mood, Theon may have escaped with nothing but a threat and a kick in the ribs. But Ramsay was in no mood to be merciful. He slammed his fist into Theon’s back, sending him so hard onto the floor that the wind was thrown from Theon’s lungs. Before either Tyrion or Bronn could protest, Ramsay sat on Theon, pinning him down. He grabbed Theon’s hands that were still bound together behind his back. Tyrion and Bronn watched in stunned silence as Ramsay picked out a finger on the left hand. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ramsay drew out his dagger and sawed through the middle finger. Blood spurted from the wound and Theon screamed so loudly that Ramsay’s words would have been drowned out if he wasn’t yelling them. “DID I SAY YOU COULD SPEAK BITCH?” Ramsay continued to sit down heavily on Theon. Had he not been so enraged, Ramsay might have been aroused. “I am sorry Master, please! I am sorry! Make it stop! Make it stop! Please make the pain stop!” Theon cried, blood spattered the floor from where it gushed from the hole in his hand. “The pain will never stop. Not for Theon Greyjoy.” Ramsay growled, finally getting off Theon who slumped, defeated and exhausted, onto the floor, his tears adding to the blood. “That’s enough of that, you have work to do.” Tyrion snarled, repulsed by what he had just witnessed.  
“Aye, piss off before that blood spreads to the doormats. Those things are a bastard to clean.” Bronn added, though his voice did not have its usual light heartedness. They both watched as Ramsay dragged the sobbing Theon to his feet and pushed him out of the glass doors. “You know, I have always said I have a soft spot in my heart for cripples, bastards and broken things,” Tyrion began “But the only way I can think of to fix that psychotic bastard is to make him a head shorter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, it is fifteen minutes until the day ends, so I squeezed one last chapter in, I know it's really short but Tyrion and Bronn needed a chapter just for them, because they are just that awesome (Thanks nanjcsy for suggesting I put them in!). I wrote this chapter on my way home on a coach with this really annoying guy next to me who just WOULDN'T SIT STILL!!! So that cutting-of-Theon's-finger bit was just me imagining what I would do to the guy. Also, everyone on that coach seemed intrigued to know what I was writing, a bunch of kids kept looking over my shoulder. I think I left them mentally scarred.


	8. Hunting for Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon is promised his reward. Ramsay meets up with a few of his mates and they all head out for a hunt.

Ramsay did not wait outside of Casterly Bank for Skinner to arrive with his car. He wanted to get as far away from the half man and his irritating companion as possible. Theon continued to sob as his missing finger throbbed. Ramsay had not freed his hands from behind his back and he could feel the blood from the open wound soaking into the fabric of his jeans; perhaps if he was very lucky he would bleed to death. He somehow doubted that Ramsay would ever allow that to happen. On the plus side, the pain from his finger masked the pain that the collar he wore caused.  
Eventually, once Ramsay felt he was far away enough, he stopped and waited for Skinner to arrive. He slumped down and sat on the curb. Theon was not given permission to sit so he remained standing. “You’re learning then?” Ramsay growled.  
“Yes Master.” Theon replied instantly.  
“There’s a good bitch. Now, I have need of you. My father has ordered me to find someone, someone I think you’ll know.” Ramsay said, his shark like smile returning to his face as Theon looked at him, terrified and unsure.  
“W-Who Master?” He asked tentatively.  
“That bastard, Jon Snow.” Ramsay smiled as Theon began to whimper and whine. “You are going to tell me where to find him, aren’t you little bitch?” Ramsay asked in a voice that told Theon he had no other option, well, to lose another body part was another option, but Theon was beginning to learn. “Yes Master.” He replied.  
“There’s a good bitch, sit here beside me.” Ramsay ordered. Theon did as he was bid and cried out in fear as Ramsay grabbed him by the hair, but all he did was force Theon’s head onto his lap. Ramsay roughly stroked at the tangled mess of hair and smiled as he felt his bitch begin to relax. “Now, tell me, where will I find Jon Snow?” Ramsay asked, almost softly.  
“The Night’s Watch Station.” Theon replied, without hesitation, eager to keep Ramsay in this mood.  
“Very good, now which one, specifically?” Ramsay questioned, tightening his grip on Theon’s hair and causing Theon to whine.  
“Station Black!” He yelped.  
“There’s a good boy! Perhaps you will get that reward after all. Would you like that?” Ramsay asked.  
“Yes please Master.” Theon answered. Ramsay smiled and sat in silence, wondering what Theon was thinking his reward would be. Perhaps freedom? A new finger? Ramsay almost laughed at that.

Finally, Skinner pulled up in the Baratheon car, though the stag on the front was now hardly visible, drowned in blood. “It’s hilarious, the look on people’s faces when they think Renly Baratheon is trying to mow them down.” Skinner laughed, rolling down the front window. One of the back windows was also lowered to reveal Damon inside on one of the back seats. “Get your pet in the car and let’s go kill some Starks!” Damon cried, looking as though he were about to jump up and down on the backseat.  
“Yeah, but tell your bitch not to piss himself in my boot again. You have no idea how many guys in those ridiculous rainbow jackets I had to kill just to get it, and I’ve been wanting this car for months!” Skinner said. Ramsay smiled. “You heard what Skinner said bitch. If you need a piss, scream and we’ll pull over and find a tree for you to cock your leg too.” Ramsay led Theon around to the boot. Theon didn’t hesitate to leap inside, eager to please Ramsay. Ramsay slammed the boot shut on him and went and got into the car. “So, where will we find the pretty little bastard?” Skinner asked as they flew down the road at top speed.  
“You know him?” Ramsay asked.  
“Yeah, nearly got into a fight with him one time. Guy got pissed off because I made fun of him being a virgin. The guy’s really over sensitive.” Skinner replied.  
“Theon said he was at Station Black, we’ll try there first.” Ramsay said, placing his feet casually on the dashboard.  
“Ramsay?”  
“What Skinner?”  
“Get your feet off of my fucking car!” Skinner growled. Ramsay rolled his eyes and took his feet off. “I’ll oblige you this one time Skinner, but speak to me like that again and you’ll join my pet in the boot, and I’ll take your fucking car.” Ramsay warned, his voice darkening again.  
“I take it the meeting had its faults then?” Damon asked, sensing Ramsay’s black mood.  
“Yes. My father was a condescending cunt as usual. He refused to let that Tywin guy call me his son, it always had to be ‘bastard son’. It was Tywin that was giving us orders; father has to go and kill Robb Stark, his wife and his mother. Father has sent some of his men after the Stark boys. I have to find this Jon guy and Joffrey is hunting down the Stark bitches.” Ramsay spat the name.  
“Well that isn’t going to work. I heard Joffrey was dead. Someone found his body in an alleyway, but they couldn’t be sure it was him. His face had been peeled off.” Damon said.  
“It was him.” Ramsay replied, knowing that his friends would not dare to tell anyone it had been him.  
“You killed him! You killed the little shit?” Skinner asked. “But you are sided with the Lannister’s now!” He added.  
“I’m not sided with anyone, especially not those blond haired shits. That bitch ordered for my dogs to be killed and her brother, the dwarf, was a right dick head. And besides, I didn’t kill him. I just skinned his face and left him for dead.” Ramsay replied.  
“But his mother is like some fucking she wolf. She’ll know it was you, she has always hated you, and she’ll want you dead for it!” Skinner argued.  
“She’ll have no evidence. It’s the night for the purge for fuck’s sake! Did she really think her precious little Joffrey was going to last the whole night?” Ramsay argued back. The two continued to bicker and snap at one another. Skinner was so focused on his argument with Ramsay that he did not notice the large figure lumber out in front of them. They felt it when they hit him though. The car crashed to a halt, throwing the three boys, and no doubt Theon, forward. “Fuck!” Muttered Ramsay as he nursed his neck.  
“What in seven hells was that?” Damon grumbled. Skinner was the first to leap out of the car. “Shit! Look what he did to my car! It’s fucked!” He shrieked. Ramsay and Damon got out to check the damage. The fat man they had hit gave out a loud moan. “How the fuck is he still alive?” Ramsay asked.  
“Probably all that extra padding! I bet he bounced right back off of the bonnet!” Damon joked as the fat man rolled around on the floor.  
“Please…please don’t hurt me! I’m sorry, I should’ve looked before I crossed the street!” The fat man cried.  
“You ruined my car!” Skinner screamed and before the fat man could utter another word, Skinner drew out his gun and fired three shots into the man’s fat head. Ramsay and Damon were silent for a moment whilst Skinner tried to regain control of his anger. He looked at the damage the impact had caused to his car, before looking up at Ramsay. “This is all your fault!” Skinner yelled angrily.  
“It’s not my fault that you weren’t looking where you were going!” Ramsay growled in reply.  
“Sam!” Came a stranger’s voice. From the road where the fat man had appeared from, another man (much trimmer and better looking) appeared and ran towards the body on the floor. “What did you kill him for? He did nothing to you!” The man yelled at Skinner. Ramsay expected Skinner to pull out his gun again, but instead he took a good, long look at the man, then looked up at Ramsay. “Bingo.” Skinner breathed, smiling wickedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's a bit short and not a lot happens...just think of the next chapter...oh dear Jon.


	9. Screwed Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ramsay brings Theon and Jon back to the den to begin his task. Who knew work could be so much fun?

Ramsay stared back at Skinner, almost in disbelief, then trained his eyes back to the man that was now hunched over his dead friend. He was pretty. With a ridiculous mop of thick black hair on his head and a puppy-dog eyed expression. “Not to worry Jon Snow,” Ramsay said, his eye shining with excitement “We’ve brought you a new, no, an old friend.” Ramsay finished. Jon looked up at him, confused.   
“What are you talking about?” He spat angrily. Ramsay didn’t answer him. Instead, he walked around to the back of the car. “Time to come out little bitch.” He muttered before opening the door to the boot. Theon looked up at him immediately. He never let his eyes leave Ramsay’s face; never listen to the words, just watch the face. Theon was learning. “Come on, hop out bitch.” Ramsay smiled sadistically and Theon did as he was told. Ramsay hooked his arm around Theon’s shoulders, causing the collar Theon still wore to dig in further. But Theon made no protest. Ramsay loosely held the end of the lead. “Look who we’ve brought for you, Mr Snow.” Ramsay said, his voice kind. Far too kind. Jon looked up at the shivering creature and wrinkled his nose. The thing stank, but there was no mistaking those sea blue eyes, no matter how sad and desperate they were. “Theon?” Jon gasped. Ramsay smiled as he watched Jon’s face darken in anger. “I heard what you did. You killed my brothers! I’ll fucking kill you Greyjoy!” Jon pounced towards Theon, but before he even touched his pet, Ramsay swung his fist around, sending Jon flying away from him. Jon lay on the ground whilst Theon hid behind Ramsay, whimpering. “Now is that any way to greet an old friend?” Ramsay snarled.  
“He is no friend of mine. He killed my brothers! He burned my house to the ground!” Jon had recovered from Ramsay’s blow and ran for Theon again. This time, Ramsay caught him by the throat and slammed him down hard onto the tarmac, knocking him out cold. “Get him in the boot. My bitch can ride in the front with me. Quickly!” Ramsay ordered.  
“What about him?” Damon asked pointing at the fat man whose brains were leaking out onto the floor.  
“Leave him there, if anyone’s hungry, they can slice off some bacon.” Ramsay replied, leading Theon to the car whilst Skinner and Damon stuffed Jon into the boot. Ramsay sat down on the seat and placed Theon on his lap. Theon, exhausted, rested his head on his master’s shoulder, much to Ramsay’s amusement. “Are you grateful to your master for saving you from that bastard, bitch?” Ramsay asked.  
“Yes, thank you master.” Theon muttered.  
“And there are plenty more treats in store for you tonight my pet, you just wait and see.”

Ramsay dismissed both Skinner and Damon once they had reached Ramsay’s house and tied the unconscious Jon to the cross in the den. Ramsay had laughed when Theon had actually pissed himself again at the prospect of going back into the den. “It’s alright my little bitch. As long as you are a good bitch and do as I tell you, you will still get that treat.” Ramsay cooed. That had made Theon shake and whine more, but he followed Ramsay down there all the same. Now, Ramsay sat in his chair and waited for Jon to come around. Theon rested his head on his master’s lap and Ramsay stroked the matted curls. Outside, the sky had begun to lighten. But in Ramsay’s den, the darkness of night never ended. For Jon Snow, the night of the Purge would stretch for longer than the remaining five hours. Ramsay smiled when he heard Jon groan. Theon did not look at Jon, he trained his eyes only to look at the one Snow…no…never Snow. “Where am I?” Jon grunted, lifting his head to look around, although most of the room was swallowed in darkness. Only one light bulb hung from the ceiling. Jon’s eyes spied Ramsay and…was that Theon resting his head on the mans lap? “Who are you?” Jon asked, gasping as the way the cross held him up caused his shoulders to ache.  
“It does get boring, all the same questions. Who are you? Where am I? Why are you doing this? What do you want? Eventually you all realise that it doesn’t really matter what the answers are. In the end, the only question you’ll ask is “Will you kill me now?” It took him a while to figure it out.” Ramsay said, indicating to Theon.  
“Then why isn’t he dead?” Jon spat.  
“Because he has his uses…unlike you Jon Snow. You’re more of an inconvenience.” Ramsay grinned, the one light bulb casting ugly shadow’s across his face.  
“An inconvenience to whom? I’m in the Night’s Watch. I live only to serve the city. And…”  
“And you’re a bastard. Ned Stark’s bastard. You must be a pretty stupid bastard if you need me to tell you who wants you dead. But let’s not bother with that question. There is a far more important question that needs answering.” Ramsay stood up and walked towards him.  
“And, what question is that?” Jon grunted.  
“Well, how to kill you of course!” Ramsay laughed as Jon glared at him through his thick black hair. “You know, everyone always goes on about that pretty hair and the pretty face. I wonder what they’d say if you weren’t so pretty. We’ll start with the hair shall we? I’m no hairdresser, but I’m thinking it needs a trim. Sadly, the only scissors I have are these.” Ramsay pulled out the pair of garden sheers. He smiled as Jon eyed them fearfully. “What? Fear for your hair do you? To be honest, I would too.” Ramsay bit down on his lip and hacked off the top. Jon began to thrash about on the cross, so much so that the sheers sliced open his cheek. “Oh, you’d prefer me to do the face first would you? Well you should have said so earlier! I can’t stop now, it’ll just look silly if it’s left only half done.” Ramsay snarled. Jon growled in reply. Somehow, he managed to loosen the strap that tied down his right arm, just enough for him to slip his hand through, releasing his arm. Jon threw all of his force into the blow, despite how much it hurt when he twisted round. It caught Ramsay square on the jaw, forcing him to stagger back a little. Theon whimpered, wanting to cry out and tell Jon that it would be better for him if he did as Ramsay asked. But Theon said nothing, if anything, he seemed to disappear inside himself for a moment, hiding in the stinking skin.  
Ramsay span back around to face Jon who was now slumped, exhausted, against the wood. “So, you’re going to make this a challenge for me are you? Okay, I must admit, Theon was a little boring. He was far too easy. So hopefully you’ll last longer!” Ramsay yelled, despite the cracked tooth he had gained from Jon’s punch. “But we need to fix you back onto that cross first.” Ramsay finished, smiling wickedly. “My little bitch? Be a good dog and go and get my toolkit. It’s in that back corner. No, since when did dogs have hands? There’s a good dog.” Ramsay said as Theon dragged the heavy bag towards him using nothing but his mouth. “Now bitch, find me the electric screwdriver and a screw. Yes you can use your hands for this part.” Ramsay ordered, turning back to face Jon, who raised his head at the words. Theon handed the tools over without hesitation. Ramsay pulled the trigger to check that it was working. The drill bit rotated beautifully, grinning in the light. With sudden speed and violence, Ramsay grabbed Jon’s wrist and thrust it back against the wood. Jon cried out before Ramsay even put the screw against his palm. “Now, I don’t want to make a mess when I do this, so I’ll just make sure the screw will go in straight.” Ramsay placed the point of the screw in the centre of Jon’s palm and began to push. Jon thrashed and screamed as the rough edges of the screw bit through the flesh. Suddenly, Ramsay yanked it back out. “Oh dear! You’ve got to stay still! It’s a mess, just look at it!” He sighed. When Jon refused to look at it, Ramsay grabbed him by what hair remained and forced his head around to look at the hand. Blood pulsed from the hole. “It’s not quite in the centre see? So I’m afraid…” Ramsay held up the bloody screw. “That we are going to have to try again!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you get the title now? Boy that was fun! Bye bye Jon's pretty mane! I will hopefully upload another chapter tomorrow :)


	10. Jon Snow Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon Snow's night of torture continues. But, despite everything, he has a permanent smile on his face.

Jon screamed so loudly as the screw twisted into his palm that Ramsay thought his father would hear all the way over at the Twins, even so, he smiled. His eyes never left Jon’s face which twisted in beautiful agony. When he felt the screw had gone deep enough, he yanked the screwdriver back out. The way it had twisted had caused bits of flesh and blood to flick out, some of which was now splattered on Ramsay’s face. “Now, we need to make sure that the other hand doesn’t escape either. Bitch, hand me another screw, there’s a good dog.” Theon obeyed without question. He did not meet Jon’s hateful gaze. He just couldn’t. Ramsay skewered Jon’s other palm with the screw before fastening it with the screwdriver. “There, now we can continue. Where was I? Oh yes! Now I remember…I think the hair will do, it looks positively ridiculous. Let’s start on the face! Any preferences Snow?” Ramsay asked cheerfully.  
“Was that question for me? Or was it for you, Ramsay Snow.” Jon spat. Theon froze. Not Snow…never Snow! He released a terrified whimper. “How do you know who I am?” Ramsay asked calmly. Dangerously calmly. “You love torturing, playing games. And your eyes are just like your fathers. Tell me, what would Mr Bolton say if he knew that his son was helping the Lannisters and killing a Stark?” Jon looked up at him, smiling. But Ramsay smiled back. “Oh, he already knows. In fact, my father is joining in! Your brother and his wife, plus that woman that can’t stand you, are waiting at the Twins. They don’t know what my father intends.” Ramsay’s smile broadened as Jon drooped his head and began to weep. “And your sisters…Tywin Lannister sent his beloved grandson after them.” Ramsay did not need to tell Jon the whole truth, it was too much fun this way. Jon began to shake, whether it was through anger or sobs, Ramsay could not say. “Then kill me and be done with it!” Jon cried.  
“Kill you? No, not yet. There is still so much fun to be had, and I promised my pet a treat!” Ramsay indicated to the cowering Theon, who no longer looked quite so excited about the prospect of a treat. Jon dropped his head, defeated by misery. “Come on, Jon. Don’t look so miserable! I could make you smile if you like? I’m going to fuck your face up anyway, you may as well wear a grin while I do it! Kill two birds with one stone eh?” Ramsay moved over to the side of the room where his work bench stood in darkness. All Theon and Jon heard was the smash of a glass bottle before Ramsay reappeared again, holding the drinking end of the bottle in his hand. The bottom of the bottle had been left in the darkness. Only cruel, jagged edges remained. Jon found strength to begin to struggle again. “You really are a stupid bastard aren’t you? If you don’t stay still, I might miss! The bottle might slip and…I don’t know…skewer your eye?” Ramsay’s voice was a warning. Jon did stop thrashing, more from exhaustion than anything. Almost delicately, as though he were painting a picture, Ramsay cut into the corners of Jon’s mouth with the broken glass. He did not slice right through the skin, oh no, he was just beginning. Once these marks were made, he withdrew the glass from Jon’s mouth. They stretch about another inch from where Jon’s mouth ended. “Now…open wide Jon.” Ramsay ordered. Jon did nothing, and Ramsay’s patience was wearing thin. He did not ask again. Instead, he grabbed Jon’s unbound wrist, smiled a little, and yanked the arm down with such force that the hand that had been drilled into the wooden cross came lose; the screw remained in place whilst the hand opened around it, tearing itself away. Jon screamed so loudly that it made his mouth stretch, causing the cuts to stretch another inch across his face into a bloody smile. “Come on Jon, you can smile wider than that!” Snarled Ramsay as he reached up to grab the other wrist.  
“No…please…I…” But before Jon could finish his protests, Ramsay forced his hand downwards, causing the skin to rip apart in order to escape the screw. Ramsay laughed as Jon flopped forwards, screaming and stretching his red smile further across his face. Ramsay stepped smartly out of the way as Jon crashed to the floor. Jon tried to put his hands out to stop his fall, but landing on the shredded skin only served to cause him yet more pain. He lay, motionless on the cold ground. Blood dribbled from his now elongated mouth and poured from his severed hands. Ramsay knelt beside him and gently lifted his face to take a look at his work. “You see Jon Snow, I’ve made you smile!” He laughed. Jon said nothing. He didn’t have the strength to fight back anymore. “It’s a small wonder why all you men of the Night’s Watch are so miserable. I hear, you have to stay celibate. No women allowed! How dreary it must be. But, if your rules say no women, then surely you would not be breaking any vows if you were to be fucked by a man?” Ramsay smiled wickedly as Jon looked up at him, his eyes pleading. “Don’t worry Jon Snow, I won’t do it.” Ramsay patted him lightly on the back as the man slumped onto the floor in relief. “Come here little bitch.” Ramsay turned to Theon who had retreated and was now cowering by the chair. “It’s time for your treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's short. I just thought I should break it up a bit. At least Ramsay got Jon to smile!


	11. Theon's Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon gets his treat. Jon's not too happy about it. Ramsay gives his pet a name.

Theon stared at Ramsay, then allowed his gaze to flicker onto Jon, then back to Ramsay. His eyes were filled with a mixture of terror and confusion. “M-Master I don’t understand?” Theon whimpered.  
“What isn’t there to understand bitch? I gave you an order. You follow it.” Ramsay growled. Theon crawled over to Ramsay on all fours. For a second time, he seemed to disappear inside himself. It took him a moment to realise that he was rubbing the side of his face, almost affectionately, up and down Ramsay’s leg. “There’s a good bitch, are you ready for your treat? Are you excited?” Ramsay purred.  
“Yes Master, I am very grateful.” Theon replied instantly.  
“I knew you would be. Now, take this.” Ramsay held out a stanley knife for his pet to take. Theon stared at it, terrified. “Go on pet, take the knife.” Ramsay encouraged. Theon took it in his hand, its sharp blade grinned in the light. Theon shuddered. “Now my pet, our friend here is too exhausted to move, so you are going to have to help him remove his clothing.” Ramsay’s voice was so smooth, so kind. It made the stanley knife tremble in his shaking palm. “Please Master I…”  
“I hope you aren’t going to be an ungrateful pet. Look what a nice treat I brought home for you. You liked pretty things once, didn’t you?” Ramsay grinned down at Theon.  
“I…I don’t want my treat. Just to be with Master is enough.” Theon pined, wanting to wretch. Ramsay knelt down beside his pet and stroked his hair. “You are a very good dog. But if you don’t fuck this pretty little bastard, I’ll take my dagger out and shove that into him instead. It’s your choice bitch.” Ramsay growled. Theon didn’t doubt for a second that he would do it. Pushing down the sickening feeling of shame that welled up inside of him, Theon moved to Jon Snow’s side. Jon whom he’d grown up with, played with, argued with, gone to school with, flirted with girls with. Theon had always been better than him at that, well, perhaps better had been the wrong word. Jon had always refused to go further than a kiss; always worried that he would get the girl pregnant. Gingerly, Theon began to cut through the fabric of Jon’s black cotton shirt, wincing and whimpering each time he caught his flayed finger or the missing middle finger, which had now crusted over. He was making a complete mess of it, he knew. His shaking hands failed to tear through the fabric easily. “Would you like me to help you pet?” Ramsay asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, just placed his large hand over Theon’s, and pushed the stanley knife deeper, so deep that it pierced Jon’s skin. Jon howled as Ramsay dragged the knife down his side, slicing his skin open. Theon tried not to whimper or slide away as Jon cursed him. Him, not Ramsay. Somehow, Jon managed to muster some strength, pulled himself up, and backhanded Theon, causing him to fall over. Jon began to pummel him with his free fist, his blood staining Theon’s jeans. Theon screeched and howled as Jon continued to hit him “Fucking turncloak! Child killer! Why did you do it? They were our brothers! I’ll kill you Greyjoy, I swear it!” But before Jon had the chance, something bowled him over with such a force that the wind was knocked from his lungs. Ramsay clambered on top of Jon, his eyes filled with a cold and uncontrollable rage. He punched Jon mercilessly, forcing his face from side to side, digging his fists into the gaps in Jon’s face. When Jon tried to bite at one of Ramsay’s hands, Ramsay grasped the top of Jon’s mouth with one hand and the bottom with the other, wrenching them apart and causing Jon’s red smile to stretch all the way to his ears. Jon screamed with pain and Ramsay growled before pulling Jon’s head from the floor and crashing it back down onto the hard ground. Jon began to weep. “Stop, please, stop…” Jon’s voice was vague as unconsciousness beckoned to him. But before he could slip into the safe darkness, Ramsay grabbed one of his torn hands, and pulled, tearing the flesh even further and bringing Jon back to the horrific reality. “NO ONE HURTS MY PET!” Ramsay roared. The fire finally left him, the same time it left Jon. The two stopped fighting. Ramsay clambered off of Jon and stood up. “On your hands and knees bastard. No man should die a virgin.” Ramsay growled. Jon, obeyed, but only after a sharp kick in the ribs. Ramsay snatched up the stanley knife that had fallen on the floor in the struggle. He finished slicing off Jon’s shirt, then cut away the seams of Jon’s black jeans, making sure he cut the skin as he went. When he ordered Theon to approach, Jon did not react. Theon wanted to apologise, to tell him the truth, to beg for him to look him in the eye again, as he had so many times before. But Jon didn’t. He continued to stare wordlessly at the floor. “Trousers off bitch.” Ramsay ordered. Theon took them off, followed by his boxer shorts. Theon was glad at that moment that Jon wasn’t looking at him. He wanted to weep. To cover himself. Ramsay’s eyes scanned over him and smiled, then he indicated to Jon, watching Theon walk past him with a hungry look in his eye. “Remember bitch, if you don’t do it, I’ll use my dagger instead. I want to hear the bastard scream.” Ramsay sat down in his chair. And watched. Theon wasn’t sure about Jon, but he wanted to scream. _“This is a mercy.”_ Came a voice from inside his head.  
 _“How is this a mercy?”_ Theon growled back.  
 _“He is not hurting you. This is kindness. This is generosity.”_ Theon wanted to argue back, but the more the voice spoke, the more it made sense. So Theon did what Ramsay wanted while Ramsay watched, his smile filled with a hungry lust as Theon pushed himself into Jon. To make it easier, Theon closed his eyes and pretended it was someone else. Ros maybe? “I hope you aren’t closing your eyes pet.” Ramsay’s voice made him freeze. “Because if you were, I would think that you were being ungrateful.” Ramsay warned.  
“I wasn’t Master. I am…I am very grateful.” Theon whimpered back as he continued to thrust into Jon.  
“Very good. Now make him scream.” Ramsay ordered, leaning back casually in his chair. Theon nodded, but was shocked at how willing he was to do as his Master bid. Immediately, he began to push in harder and more violently, forcing Jon to yelp and cry out. But what scared Theon the most, was that he never, _never_ took his eyes off of Ramsay. _“Yes, this is a mercy. This is a kindness.”_ Came the voice. Theon wept in agreement.

By the time they were done, Theon’s legs could barely hold him up. He was exhausted and ashamed. His missing finger and the missing nipple throbbed and his flayed finger burned. Jon, however, was worse for wear. Blood continued to flow from his elongated mouth. Blood was pooling around his hands, as well as staining his butt cheeks. If he didn’t moan or gasp with pain, Theon would have thought him dead. Ramsay stood up and walked over to Theon, who was hunched over on the floor. Theon hurriedly wiped away his tears and looked up at his master. To his relief, Ramsay smiled down at him. “There’s a good pet.” Ramsay cooed, kneeling down beside Theon. Once they were eye to eye, Ramsay leaned forward. Theon flinched but dared not move. Ramsay took a long deep breath, breathing Theon in. “You did well pet, but you stink! No, you reek!” Ramsay looked at Theon for a moment, thinking. “You are my pet now, aren’t you bitch?” Ramsay asked softly.  
“Yes master.” Theon replied.  
“I can’t call you bitch all the time! That’s just cruel!” Ramsay laughed. “You should have a new name, would you like that pet?”   
“Yes Master.” Theon’s replies came without hesitation.  
“Then you shall have one. And I can think of none more fitting than Reek! Because you do! You reek of piss and blood and sweat and fear. You are mine Reek. What is your name?” Ramsay asked, standing up to tower over his pet. Reek looked up at him. “My name is Reek, Master, and I am yours.” He replied. He whined as he felt Theon disappear once again inside the stinking skin, screaming and wailing. This time though, he did not resurface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! I know, I know, I didn't upload yesterday! I'm sorry! Please don't flay me! I do have an excuse, I had to go and let youtube know I was alive by throwing together a video to put on there, but I'm back now! I hope you enjoyed the chapter! I will hopefully upload the next chapter tomorrow :)


	12. Snow Falls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of the annual Purge is drawing to a close and Ramsay completes his task. Then he meets a new enemy.

Reek continued to stare up at Ramsay, just as Ramsay continued to smile down at Reek. Reek felt nothing but relief. This was a nice smile. A pleased smile. “Put your trousers back on Reek.” Even his command was kind. The moment was broken seconds later by a groan from Jon. Ramsay’s head snapped around and his smile widened. “Tired of fighting bastard?” Ramsay asked, moving over to him. Jon looked up at him. “Please…kill me…” Jon begged.  
“Of course. I think you’ve earned it, after all, you did well to entertain my pet. He had fun, didn’t you Reek?” Ramsay never took his eyes off of Jon.  
“Yes Master.” Reek replied.  
“Now, how should we go about this?” Ramsay asked, beginning to circle Jon. “Ah! I have an idea! How did your father die, Jon? Remind me.” Ramsay ordered. Jon began to cry, making Ramsay laugh. “He was beheaded.” Jon said, though Ramsay already knew.  
“Well that seems only fitting, it is a bit clean for my taste. But the Starks always did enjoy beheading their enemies. I bet mother Stark imagined lopping off your head thousands of times.” Ramsay grinned as he heard Jon whine. “Can you walk?” Asked Ramsay.  
“What?” Jon looked up at him, confused.  
“Can you walk? I don’t want any more blood on my floor. My Reek would only have to clean it up.” Ramsay helped Jon to stand up, hooking Jon’s arm over his shoulder. Jon was too exhausted to fight or try to escape. He couldn’t wait for death. “Reek, bring my axe.” Ramsay ordered. Reek grabbed the axe from where it hung on the wall and followed the bastards as they ascended the stairs. Morning light greeted them. The air was cold and damp, the sky grey. Ramsay guessed that they had no more than an hour left before the purge ended. He unhooked Jon from around his shoulders and threw him to the ground on the driveway. His father would not be happy about him doing it here, but it had been his job. Ramsay walked away and grabbed a block of wood from where the fire wood was stacked, ready for the oncoming years of winter. Ramsay threw it down in front of Jon’s face before grabbing him by what hair remained and forcing his neck onto the block. “Any last words, bastard?” Ramsay asked, snatching the axe from Reek’s hand.   
“Yes.” Jon replied.  
“Well get on with it then.” Ramsay spat, annoyed that he had to wait. This toy was boring him now. “Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live…”  
“That Nights Watch shit won’t help you now.” Ramsay cut in. But Jon continued with his vow. “I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the…” Jon’s final words were cut short as the axe came down. The head did not come off cleanly and Jon gurgled a scream. Reek whimpered, but managed to muffle the screams of protest from Theon. Ramsay gritted his teeth and brought the axe down again, slicing into the back of Jon’s head. “Sorry for making a mess of it. I’m better with a flaying knife.” Ramsay grinned, dealing the final blow that finally separated Jon’s head from his body. Reek cowered in terror, staring at the headless figure that slumped to the floor. Ramsay stepped away and threw the axe to the floor. He wiped his brow, spreading the sprayed blood further across his face. Jon’s eyes gazed up into the grey sky. Somewhere far across the city, Reek thought he heard a wolf begin to howl. After a moment to get his breath back, Ramsay tore the phone out from his pocket and dialled his father’s number. “What is it Ramsay? I am busy.” His father answered without Ramsay needing to say anything.  
“It is done father.” Ramsay said, trying to ignore his father’s tone.  
“Good.” His father answered, as if uninterested.  
“I chopped his head off.” Ramsay continued.   
“Good. Bring that and your pet to the Twins will you?” His father didn’t wait for a reply. He just hung up. Ramsay stuffed his phone angrily into his pocket. He grabbed Jon’s head by what hair remained. “Come Reek.” He didn’t bother putting Reek’s collar back on, nor did he bother to put Jon’s head into a bag. Let the people of Westeros see what had become of the Starks.

Despite his exhausted pet, Ramsay made good time. Before long, he could see the Twins rising up above the buildings. Ramsay checked his watch. Fifteen minutes before his night was up. He wanted to reach the Twins before the night was over. “This way Reek.” He ordered, leading the way down a side alley that led to a shortcut. Reek shuffled along silently behind him. The streets were quiet now. That made the screams only ring out louder. Ramsay knew those screams, the gods knew he had caused them many times. “No! Please! IT WASN’T ME!” Domeric wailed. Ramsay ran, following the cries. He skidded around the corner, Reek struggling to keep up, and saw Domeric lying flat on his back a little way off. A small boy, or was it a girl, stood over him, pointing a thin sword into his throat. Before Ramsay could utter a word, the kid smoothly poked their blade into Domeric’s throat. The next words that Domeric uttered came out as a gurgle as blood filled his mouth. The small person muttered something that Ramsay could not hear. “Oi!” Ramsay finally managed to shout out. The person looked at him. Their grey eyes took him in, then glanced down at the head he was carrying. Ramsay wanted to run at them, but something in their eyes made him unable to move. He saw their lips move, then they turned away from him and began to run away, though their footsteps made not a sound. Ramsay paused for a moment to watch them before running to his brother. “Ramsay?” Domeric gurgled. He looked about ten years younger. The boy reached his hand up towards Ramsay, in some hope for comfort. Ramsay didn’t move. He just stared at him as the blood seeped out of the hole in his throat. Domeric’s eyes were pleading now. The blood stretched out closer to Ramsay’s feet. He stepped away. Domeric only had time to frown before his eyes glazed over and his life left him. Ramsay stared at him for a moment. Not sure what he should feel. Almost without thinking, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled his father’s number again. “What is it now Ramsay?” His father growled down the phone.  
“Father. I have found Domeric.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you know who that kid is. She has many names on her list. That will be the last chapter from Ramsay's perspective. Only the epilogue remains and that will be setting up the story line for the sequel.


	13. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wants revenge. She has her list. She has her God.

_“The wolves will come again.” She read. She smiled at the words and threw away the can of red spray paint. It was at that moment that the siren rang out, announcing the end of the annual purge. An unquenching sadness threatened to break her. She had lost too much this night; her mother and her brothers. All her brother’s. What remained of Robb’s body was at the Twins. She had seen them parade his headless body through the streets, Grey Wind’s head had been stitched on and they’d chanted “Here comes the King in the North.” Jon had lost his head too. She had seen it. She had overheard some Lannister men talking about how Bran and Rickon had been burnt alive inside her home. And she did not know where Sansa was. Arya walked away from Casterly bank, with its newly sprayed walls. She headed into a nearby public toilet and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked so different. Her face was pale beneath the blood. Her hair was knotted and dirty. She quickly scrubbed her skin clean, but there was no helping her hair. Arya unsheathed her dagger and sliced through the matted chunks, throwing the hair into the bin. When she looked back into the mirror, she believed what people said; she did look like a boy. Her clothes were torn, bloodied and dirty from the climbing and running. She froze where she stood when voices were heard outside. Seconds later, two men walked in. She didn’t recognise them, but they wore the badge of house Frey on their chests . Arya wanted to growl, to unsheathe needle and bloody it again. But she didn’t. The siren had sounded. Her time was over. For now anyway. The two men looked at her and walked over so that there was one on either side. “Well what do we have here?” One of them asked, smiling cruelly._   
_“A little homeless boy taking shelter in the toilets?” The other one questioned._   
_“Night’s over boy. Time to go.” The first one said, moving over to the urinal._   
_“Yeah, beat it kid. Before I take your pretty little sword and shove it up your arse.” The other laughed, following his friend to take a piss. Arya turned to leave. “I was the one to sew that direwolves head on the young wolfs body you know.” The first man said._   
_“Yeah right.” The other spat back._   
_“I was! It was bloody heavy! It kept falling off!” The first boasted._   
_“Whatever you say. That bitch had a good set of lungs on her didn’t she?”_   
_“Yeah, she screamed like a dying cow when Roose Bolton stabbed her son.” It was too much for Arya to take. She span around to face them. “Excuse me?” She said sweetly._   
_“You still here?” The first man spat, tucking his cock back into his trousers._   
_“Do you have a car?” Arya asked._   
_“Yeah, a nice new one after last night.” The man boasted. The other chuckled in agreement. “Can you take me home? Please.” She begged._   
_“Make your own fucking way home boy.” He growled._   
_“I’ve got money.” Arya continued, digging out the coin from her pocket. The man reached out to take it from her, at which point she clumsily dropped it. “Sorry.” She said._   
_“You little shit.” The man growled, bending down to pick it up. Before either man had a clue what was going on, Arya skewered him through the neck. As the other one quickly did up his trousers to fight her off, she turned needle skilfully in her hand and pierced him. Right were the heart was. He had only a moment to stare at her, his eyes filled with shock, before the life drained out of them. She liked that bit best. Watching them realise that their time was up. He collapsed on top of his friend. She bent down and dug out her coin. “Valar Morghulis.” She muttered, before wiping her blade on their clothes. She held needle up into the light, watching it glisten. It was the only thing that made her smile now. That was three lives her friend had taken. And one had been a Bolton. Only two of them remained now. And she would have them, as well as the Lannister’s and the Frey’s. They were all on her list. They would be her sacrifices to her God. The one she prayed to each night since her father’s head had been cut off. The God of death would have his due. She would just have to wait a year._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it. I might upload the chapter to my new story tonight. Not sure, but it will be a part of 'The Thirteen Tales' series. I'll write the sequel to this. I hope you enjoy the last chapter and thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> It will get more gory as the night progresses and Ramsay will cross paths with several major characters. Please let me know what you think and give it kudos if you think it worthy :)


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